He wakes again in the heart of the night. It's far from the first time he's woken on this couch; the fabric is familiar, comforting. Only embers are left of the fire now, and there's a touch of chill to the air, but it's a chill he doesn't feel, because...

Looking down, he finds out why. Jack is cuddled in his arms, her cheek pillowed on his chest, her curly blonde hair spilling over her shoulder like a halo in the starlight. Their legs are tangled together beneath the thin blanket, her knee tucked securely between his legs, and as he blinks down at her in sleepy confusion, she yawns and arches against him.

"Hey." Her smile is soft as she gazes up at him, pink lips just parted, her voice husky, and the heat in his gut comes flaring back to life as her scent swirls around him.

He can't stop himself from kissing her then. Can't stop the way his hand strokes down her back, finding her bare bottom under the loose cotton of the shirt she'd borrowed from him last night; can't stop the way he moans as she sighs into the kiss, soft and willing and beautiful.

She's soaking wet when his hand slips between her legs, and she arches into his touch with a startled gasp, her thighs parting on instinct. "Jethro," she rasps, husky and wanting, rocking her hips against his fingers.

It's absurdly easy to tip her over that first edge. She cries out, breathy and helpless, as his fingers enter her; "Come for me," he murmurs, and she does, helpless little noises muffled in his shoulder as she ripples around him.

"Again," she begs, to his amazement. "Jethro, don't stop - "

He doesn't. He knows her better now, knows what will wring that delighted gasp from her lips or those sweet little moans from the back of her throat. Fingers stroking deep inside her, murmuring nonsense into her ear - promises he means more than he's ever meant anything, and will even after he's forgotten exactly what they are - he feels his own urgency build as she sobs into his shoulder and comes again, slick and strong and sweet.

"Please," she says again, an urgency in her voice he's never heard before. "God, I need you in me - "

"Yes," he says, as his vision hazes, clouded by a want so fierce he hasn't felt it in decades. "Do you need - "

She always could read his mind. Scrambling up to straddle him, wet and ready and aching, she rocks against the thick ridge of his erection, helpless little noises bubbling out of her with every stroke. "No," she whispers, even as she reaches between her own legs. "No, God, I trust you, I can't bear - "

It's all he can take. She cries out in earnest as he sinks inside her without warning, her pulse fluttering wildly under the thin skin at her throat. His hands are everywhere, stroking down her sides, her belly, filling his hands with the perfect weight of her breasts; hers are cupping his face as she peppers him with kisses, with soft little bites that will ache for days and bring a stupidly satisfied smile to his lips every time he sees them.

She tries to protest when he reaches for the t-shirt, shaking her head even as her eyes are dazed with desire; but he's having none of it, can't bear for the fabric to remain between them any longer. She sobs a little when his hands find her back at last, running tenderly over the deadened ridges of the network of scars that lattice her back. The skin immediately next to them is hypersensitive, and she cries out with every brush of his fingers over her battered skin.

"Let it go, Jack." He can hardly recognize his own voice, roughened as it is with the ache in his heart and his lungs as he looks at her terrified face. "I'm with you. You understand? I am with you."

She lets her tears fall at last, this time crying with love and relief as she begins to shake around him. It has to be hell on her back but she leans over until her lips can brush his, until she can press her cheek to his and kiss her adoration into the curve of his ear and the weathered skin of his cheek.

"I love you," she whispers hoarsely, her voice strained by the ache of desire nearly fulfilled. "God, I love you."

It's her final confession, the last words left unspoken, and the look in her eyes sears him to the heart.

Only later will he remember that he cried, that she kissed his tears from his cheeks with the sweetest of kisses. All he knows now is the truth of his own soul, and the blessing of peace he's been chasing for half a lifetime.

"I love you, too." She chokes out a gasp of disbelieving wonder, and all he can do is cup her cheek in his hand and hope his eyes will show his truth. "I do. I love you, Jack. Till death do us part."

That's when she shatters around him, sobbing his name, pressing helpless kisses to his throat as she comes apart in his arms, and it is the sweetest sound he's ever heard in his life.

Her smile is the last thing he sees before the world goes white.